


There's Poison on Your Lips and I'm Thirsty for It

by OhNoMyBreadsticks



Series: Of Gods and their Humans [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood and Injury, Brief descriptions of poisoning, Brief discussion of loss of limb, First Meetings, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Magic, Shameless Smut, elder forest gods, no actual loss of limb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 14:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20244211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoMyBreadsticks/pseuds/OhNoMyBreadsticks
Summary: Connor wanders the endless prairie, directionless save for the driving force of his curiosity. A god has no need for obligations, yet he still might find himself entrapped by the complexities of humanity.With the sun beating down and the poison ivy rustling in the breeze, Connor may just end up tangled up in the affairs of one particular human against his will.(Can be read as a stand-alone)





	There's Poison on Your Lips and I'm Thirsty for It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [connorssock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/gifts).

> I’m back on my old gods bullshit folks, and super happy about it!! This is a gift for the incredible Connorssock, who is a wonderful friend and works so hard every day <3 I wanted to write them some Allen60 and suddenly the plot of BE9 has gotten _so much better_! I’m excited to share this little sneak peek of a character we will be seeing more of soon ;)
> 
> As always, my incredible lovely beta is [thislittlekumquat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislittlekumquat/pseuds/thislittlekumquat) <3
> 
> For clarity, and for those that are new here (hello new people, thank you for trying out my silly little AU!): this Connor is based off RK800-60 and is the god of poisonous things, he just shares a name with the Connor who’s hanging out with Hank. He can also turn into a fox lol.
> 
> Extra clarity note: this fic is set in the 1800s, several hundred years prior to the main storyline! Timeline info [here](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/be9timeline)!

Connor trotted through the prairie grass, ears pricked up and nose snuffling along casually. The hot sun beating down on his slate coat was enough to have him panting softly, pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. It was undignified, sure, but it helped with the heat. His dark fur stood out against the lush green of the prairie, but the plants were so tall that he was well-nigh invisible to any eyes except those of a hawk. And any hawk stupid enough to try and swoop down on him was in for the surprise of a lifetime - guaranteed - since its life would soon be over. He had a fondness for the way the landscape naturally camouflaged him, the grass rustling and swaying in the breeze hiding his footfalls, the wind unimpeded in its path across the wide open fields carrying his scent far away.

But Connor’s favorite part of the prairie - _ oh _ \- that was the variety of plants that flourished here. In the sea of green stretching as far as the eye could see, there were patches and smatterings of poison. Some enough to kill, most enough to simply burn the skin and leave a trail of painful blisters. All nestled just out of sight, waiting for an unsuspecting foot or hand to brush against them. The settlers had started to burn the prairie away around their homes, and Connor had sat at the edge of the clearing and watched as they breathed in the burning poison ivy. It was amusing, to watch the way humans reacted to the effects. And, quite frankly, it was their own fault. Their dwellings stunk of death, so he wasn’t surprised that something had finally come back to bite them, metaphorically or not.

And if Connor had, perhaps, been enhancing the effects of the poison ivy, well, he was simply doing his job. He didn’t want to see the prairie torched away for good, despite being completely aware that it was quite probably the natural progression of the land. He was a selfish god, it seemed. He had never needed to be any other way, and that suited him just fine. Today, in fact, he was simply out and about to try and find a shaded place to nap. Later, when the sun was setting and the air was cooler, he would hunt for his evening meal. The entire ecosystem faltered when the sun was highest and the heat was shimmering in the air, even the prey animals waiting until dusk to emerge.

Perhaps it was the sense of being in total control that blinded him. Perhaps it was the very wind that protected him that dulled his own nose. Regardless, Connor barely had time to think that this area stunk of humans before his paw had landed in the trap. The metal snapped shut with a clang that masked the crunch of bone and flesh. The scream of pain that was wrenched out of Connor’s throat was high and thin, his body instinctively thrashing away from the pain. This, of course, only made it worse, more of his skin tearing away under the cruel bite of the blades. He could feel the steel on the bone, already leaving dents and marks that likely wouldn’t fade. 

Chest heaving and soft whines still escaping his mouth, Connor managed to still his limbs, standing hunched over the trap. Blood was splattered across the ground and on his fur, the stench of it sharp in the hot summer air. His mind was racing with options to escape, tail cutting through the air nervously and ears pressed flat down onto his skull. It was difficult to concentrate, with the pain shooting up from his leg and straight into his brain, but there were only a few options available. 

Connor could try to wrench the limb free and hobble away on what was left of it, but that would probably take way too long. Whoever had set this trap would no doubt be coming by to check it soon. If he shifted into his human form he could open the trap with his free hand, but the change would probably mean his trapped hand would essentially be severed from his arm. He always hated re-growing limbs. It was such a hassle, and it left him feeling drained and exhausted. He let out a frustrated growl. _ He had just wanted to take a nap! _Whoever was responsible for this was going to regret it.

There was poison ivy sprouting in the grass around Connor’s feet where his blood had spattered on the ground, the earth hissing and roiling from contact with his anger. As he stood there trying to force his pained mind to make a decision, the universe made the decision for him. Heavy footsteps were approaching, and soon a looming shadow blotted out the sun above him. He raised his head and bared his teeth defiantly, snarling and yapping in an attempt to communicate to the oncoming intruder just what sort of pain was about to be inflicted on him. It was a man, Connor could smell the stench of it on him. No other human smells came with him, just this one man alone. 

Heavy boots crushed the poison ivy underfoot, and a gloved hand descended on Connor’s scruff, pinning him to the earth. Aside from the pain, the indignity of it all was almost too much to bear. Being held down like this by a filthy human! Disgusting. Connor squirmed awkwardly, but he couldn’t get a good enough angle to try and penetrate the heavy leather glove with his teeth. All he could do was try not to squeal in pain as the trap was opened and he was hefted into the air, more blood spurting from his leg as his body shook and shifted. A regular fox would have been dead or weakened from the blood loss at this point, but the only things clouding Connor’s mind now were pain and anger, not weakness.

Connor continued to yelp and snarl as he was lifted into the air and carried away, as the man holding him started to hum a mindless tune, as they crossed the shifting prairie to a tiny cabin tucked away in the grass. He didn’t stop struggling, despite the fact that he definitely wasn’t going anywhere. It was more the principle of the thing. The option to just change to his human form and see how this bastard handled that was incredibly tempting. But at the same time, running away on two feet seemed like a lot of work. He would simply see what this man had in store for him, and then escape as soon as he fell asleep.

As they left the wild grass of the prairie and entered the cabin, Connor prepared himself for that sickening feeling of losing power. He always felt like shit when he ended up in human settlements - there just wasn’t enough poison in the area to fuel him. Maybe, he thought vindictively, maybe he could throw up on this guy’s pants. That would show him. And yet, as the door swung open and the man stepped into the relative cool of the shade inside, Connor felt fine. Still hazy with pain, but not nauseous or liable to pass out. Confused, he fell silent, twisting his head around to try and see what he could possibly be drawing power from. 

The man holding him unceremoniously dumped his body onto a table before Connor could locate what he was looking for, and with the door to the cabin shut he decided to save his energy and just lay there. His neck wasn’t snapped yet, so he didn’t figure the guy was going to gut him now. And if he did, well, he could have a fun time dying slowly while Connor put himself back together. He watched with cautious eyes nonetheless as the man busied himself in the little room, rattling open drawers and cupboards. It was then that Connor got a clear glimpse of two things - the man’s face, and the medicine cabinet.

Connor’s focus was drawn to the cabinet first, because it was practically radiating power. A gloved hand pulled open one door and revealed jar after jar of herbs, medicine, and _ poison _. Connor’s nose snuffled instinctively, trying to discern the different types held within the cabinet, but he wasn’t able to get very far before the door was shut once more. Then it was just the man looming over him, Connor’s brown eyes coming up to meet green. His jaw was square, with angular brows drawn together in a contemplative frown underneath short cropped brown hair. Tan skin bore the mark of the elements, and Connor could read the days he had spent in the sun on every freckle and healing burn mark. 

“Now are you gonna sit still or am I gonna have to set this bone with my gloves?” the man asked, voice low and steady. 

Connor almost rolled his eyes. What was this guy, a sentimental idiot? Talking to animals, great. Much to his annoyance, he found himself somewhat soothed by the cadence of the man’s words nonetheless. Huffing, Connor lowered his head onto the table and glared up at the man with baleful eyes. The simmer of annoyance wasn’t helped at all when that movement simply pulled a chuckle out of him. Slowly, the gloves were pulled off, revealing not stubby, brutish fingers, but dextrous, clever hands that were worn with callouses and scars. 

“I knew you were a clever one,” the man teased. “Sit still, this will hurt.” 

Despite the utter uselessness of it all, he continued to talk to Connor the entire time he worked. He described what he was doing and when he was going to do it, his tone and movements practiced and steady. His words were a strange anchor in the sea of pain as he set the bone, cleaned the wound, and dressed it. A strange hunter, Connor thought, to tend to his prey so thoughtfully. The dressing wasn’t half bad - not that he needed it - complete with a little splint and a copious amounts of bandages. When he was satisfied with his work, the man turned away and rinsed his hands in a bucket of water by the side of the bench. Connor’s blood slid off his fingers in drips and drops, leaving the skin pristine once more. Well, physically at least. The mark of a god was more difficult to remove than with one simple wash.

Even though he knew it was coming, Connor still snapped and snarled for the show of it when he was picked up and deposited in a cage on the floor. The door was shut and latched, but no lock was placed on the opening mechanism. He let out a little derisive snort at the lack of care, but couldn’t complain too much. Opening a latch with his hands was going to be so much easier than having to rot the lock away. With nothing left to do but wait for the man to go to sleep, Connor lay and watched him move around the little house with some interest. He was quiet and purposeful in all of his movements, no hesitation visible as he tidied up his workbench and set about making some sort of dinner for himself. 

The smell of roasting rabbit was too good to resist, and Connor found himself letting out a soft whine against his better judgement. Despite having his back to the cage, and the fire going under the iron stove, the man still heard him. Without turning around, he said, “Not to worry, you’ll get your dinner soon enough.” 

And Connor, well, despite himself, he believed him. In the short time in which he had been in this man’s presence, he had never once attempted to deceive him. A steaming piece of rabbit in a dish landing inside the cage only confirmed this belief, and Connor found himself deep in thought as he gnawed at the bone. A strange hunter indeed.

* * *

As soon as the man was asleep, his soft breaths drifting through the hazy darkness of the cabin, Connor sat up and let out a little yawn. He was tired, but it was time to end this charade. A quick shift into his human form had the splint and bandages ripping away from his wrist - now fully healed. He turned the joint a few times, feeling the sinew and tendons slipping back into place. It would have healed regardless, but he had a suspicion the thorough medical treatment had sped up the process significantly. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was basically basking in the power leaking out of that medicine cabinet. Whatever it was, he was right back to normal, pride and body intact once more.

The cage was just barely big enough to fit Connor’s human body, his legs awkwardly folded up in front of his torso, tail curled around his ass and sticking through the bars of the cage. He was quite proud of how nice he kept his tail, the fur glossy and reflective even in the dim lighting filtering in through the single window. Sticking one hand out through the bars, Connor easily opened the latch and swung the door open. It was a simple business to crawl out and get to his feet, brushing dirt off his knees with a soft sigh. His human form always felt so much more disgusting when it was dirty. It was why he so rarely took it, unless he needed the dexterity of opposable thumbs.

The door to the cabin was right there, one more easily opened latch all that was standing in the way of Connor’s return to the open prairie. He took a few steps towards it, then paused. He should just leave, let this human wake up in the morning and curse whatever fate had led to the escape of his little project. He didn’t need to know anything more about such an insignificant creature, and yet. 

And _ yet _… 

There were so many questions echoing through Connor’s mind, the only sound in the room left to cut through them the soft huffs coming from the bed. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to indulge in his curiosity just for a moment.

Bare feet padded across the floor, Connor not making any sound as he came to stand at the side of the bed. Looking down, he allowed his eyes to linger on the features of the man - drinking his fill of the information he could garner there. He could read the hard life that had brought him here in the wrinkles across his face, see the strength in his bones in the way he slept as if nothing could hurt him here. Perhaps Connor allowed himself to linger too long, his presence blotting out the moon’s light for too long, because the man began to stir. First slowly, then all at once, he woke with a start, eyes snapping open as he jolted upright. There was a knife in his hand, seemingly by magic, but Connor assumed he must have simply pulled it out from under his pillow. His eyes were wide, but not so much from fear, no, more so to try and see in the dark what Connor was easily able to distinguish with his superior vision.

“Who the hell are you?” the man snapped, the soft edges of sleep still clinging to his syllables. Curious, Connor thought, there was no ‘get back’, no calls for help. A simple question, which he supposed deserved a simple answer. 

“The name I claim is Connor,” he said, English feeling slow and strange on his tongue after all these years. He could speak it, of course, because he wasn’t an _ animal _, but he usually opted not to. Who would be worthy of the effort, after all? The man’s eyes narrowed, and he looked Connor up and down with suspicion. There was a hint of something else there, just a glimmer in the dark, a spark that made Connor quirk up his eyebrow in interest.

Connor stepped closer, his knees bumping up against the frame of the bed. The knife was an inch from his chest now, the metal gleaming in what little moonlight was filtering past his body. He locked eyes with the man, feeling the strange energy between them and feeding into it with his own will. 

“_ What _ are you, Connor?” the man finally asked, the name rolling easily off his tongue. Connor wondered what his name would taste like, directly from the source. Names were powerful, after all, and the name of a god was the most powerful of all. His tail swished lazily behind him, the movement enough to catch the man’s eye and make him break the gaze. 

“I’m a god,” Connor purred, flicking his tail forward to gather it in his arms, fingers running slowly through the fur. It made a nice contrast, he thought, the dark fur against his pale skin, marred only by the smattering of freckles. 

“I don’t believe in gods. Or spirits,” The man said confidently, eyes narrowing as they caught sight of the slow spread of Connor’s sharp teeth into a grin.

“Luckily for you, I don’t require belief to be worshipped,” came Connor’s reply. He leaned forward, chest now pressing against the point of the knife. He could feel the sharpness of the blade, but the man’s hand remained steady, and his skin remained intact. “I won’t even ask you to get on your knees,” he added, voice lowering into almost a purr.

The man said nothing, but the knife began to retreat, Connor’s body following it, until he had to put his hands on the shoulders in front of him for stability. There was a moment of silence, the two sizing each other up, weighing the risks and the rewards, as if they were actually equals. They weren’t, but Connor let him pretend. It was the man who finally bridged the gap, leaning forward and pressing their lips together. There was no hesitancy here either, the pressure firm and unyielding. The man’s lips were chapped, and Connor wasted no time in swiping his tongue out to taste the salty perspiration on them. He was burning up with curiosity, and he was being given an opportunity to sate it in some small ways.

It wasn’t long before the intensity of the kiss had Connor burying his hand in the man’s hair to anchor himself, fingers tugging at the short brown strands. He pulled harder, trying to force a gasp, and when he got it he immediately began to explore the warm mouth that opened up for him. Greedy, perhaps, but how could it be greed if this is what he was owed? His partner didn’t seem to mind, a soft groan echoing between them as he reciprocated the deepened kiss. There were strong hands running up and down Connor’s sides now, grabbing at his hips and pulling him forward. He gladly went, crawling onto the bed to settle on the man’s lap, his ass settling on strong thighs with only a blanket to separate them.

The dark air of the cabin was alive with quiet sounds now, the huff of hot breath, the shuffle of cloth, and suddenly - twin moans as Connor canted his hips forward and pressed their growing erections together. The human _ need _ for pleasure was so strong, it pulsed through his own veins when he found himself in this form. One large, calloused hand left its place exploring his back and hips to tug at the blankets between them, freeing the man’s cock from whatever undergarments he was wearing, then from underneath the blankets. He hissed against Connor’s mouth at the sensation of his own hand, and Connor bit down on his lip, tasting the copper tang of blood bloom against his tongue.

To Connor’s surprise, the man bit back, catching his tongue in his teeth and worrying at it. Not enough to leave marks, but enough to send a jolt of pain down his spine. _ Ah, what a truly fascinating human! _ Connor could feel the heat racing through his body, the excitement building in his veins. He scooted farther forward into the man’s lap, his own cock fully hard now, and aching for some sort of attention. He supposed he could reach down and take himself in hand, but that would mean relinquishing his exploration of the human’s scalp and back. His nails were currently probing along the soft flesh of a shoulder blade, no doubt leaving red trails in their wake.

Luckily for the both of them, Connor’s partner seemed eager to please, wrapping his hand as best he could around both of their cocks. Oh that hand was just as clever as Connor had thought it would be. The slide was rough though, precum the only lubrication easing the friction of skin on skin. Connor squirmed, the feeling just on the edge of uncomfortable, but at the same time...he had always enjoyed a bit of pain. Before he could properly focus on the sensation, there was pressure on his jaw, pulling him away from their kiss. He chittered angrily, ears flattening as he frowned at the sudden interruption, but that sound was quickly silenced as a hand was pressed against his lips.

_ Ah _, so that was the play here. Connor happily opened his mouth, laving his tongue across the proffered palm and up between the fingers. Spit certainly wasn’t the best lubricant, but it was better than nothing. And he enjoyed the sensation of skin under his tongue, feeling the pulse of the man’s rushing heart in the veins that ran up from his wrist. It would be so simple to bite down and feel that rush of blood as the body under him went limp and lifeless. And yet, there was more value to be had here, in the taste of salt and the feeling of an index finger tracing the outline of his canines ever-so-carefully.

Once he was satisfied with the amount of spit coating his hand, the man withdrew it, grasping both of their dicks again and capitalizing on the slightly slicker slide to draw a low moan out of Connor. Something about the way this man moved, the way he wasn’t intimidated at all by the strangeness of the situation… it had arousal burning through Connor’s body already. He had a feeling this was going to be quick and messy for both of them, given the rough pace his partner was taking. There was nothing gentle here, no kisses pressed delicately against necks, or hands clasped together. There was heat, yes, hearts beating faster and sweat making the slide of their bodies easier as the pace became more frantic. Both of their hips had begun thrusting up chasing that friction and pressure, and it took several awkward tries before any kind of rhythm could be established.

And yet, even as Connor felt the way the man’s legs were tensing and his strokes became more frantic, there was still silence. No supplication, no pleas, nothing but wordless moans tumbling from both their lips. Connor wanted _ more _ . He wanted to taste his own name on the kiss-bitten lips of his partner. Nails biting into his shoulders as he thrust, Connor tightened his grip and purred, “I want to hear you when you cum. I want to, _ hah _, I want to hear you say my name.” 

The man groaned almost desperately, hips stuttering, but he managed to look up and lock eyes with Connor nonetheless. His eyes were hooded, pupils wide in the dark as he focused on the god in front of him.

“I thought you didn’t need to ask for worship,” he said simply, voice low and rough with arousal. 

Those words, combined with the heat of the refusal, hit Connor like nothing he had ever felt before. His back arched and he came with a half scream, the sound shrill and animalistic. His dick twitched uselessly as the man continued to work him through his orgasm, still chasing his own release. But before the overstimulation could become too much there was a low, punched out noise from his partner, and his hand began to still, now covered in both of their cum. Exhausted, they slumped against each other, Connor finding his head resting easily in the sloping curve of the man’s neck into his shoulder. His cheek stuck to the sticky layer of sweat gathered there, and yet he found to his surprise it was not so bad. He allowed himself to stay there as the sound of both their breaths in the room calmed from desperate gasps to slower inhalations. 

The man moved first, drawing back to look down at the mess between them with a grunt. “I’ll wash bedclothes in the morning,” he decided, looking Connor up and down appraisingly. “And you need to move, because I’m not sleeping like this, but I don’t trust you not to rifle through my things.” 

Connor snickered, feigning insult as he dramatically fell back onto the bed, legs splayed to display the mess they had made. “After all that you still have some sense, human,” he said, watching carefully as the man got up and shuffled to a stack of linens to grab one for cleaning himself off. There was still a strange hum to the air, of things unsaid and motives still buried beneath layers of unspoken deception.

“I’ve given you the use of my name and my body, it seems only fair you repay in kind,” Connor finally spoke up, propping himself on his elbows as the man approached the bed again. 

He was silent for a moment, simply handing over a cloth for Connor to clean himself off with and watching him as he did so. It wasn’t until Connor was finished that the man said, “Allen. You can call me Allen.” 

Connor tasted the name on his tongue, murmuring it softly to feel the way the sounds slipped from his lips. There was a truth to that name, but not the entirety of Truth. This was not the man’s true name. “Clever again, Allen,” he chuckled, sitting up now that he was clean. Allen said nothing in reply, simply pulling the covers aside and sitting down on the bed. Connor was in the way of him fully laying down again, so he raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“What, you’re not going to order me out, or ask me to stay?” Connor asked, genuinely surprised but hiding it under a layer of sarcasm. 

Allen shrugged, replying, “You’ve made it clear you follow no orders, and I’m not much for them myself. Do what you please, but I need to sleep. Traps to check and crops to water won’t wait for me, nighttime dalliance or no.” 

Connor hummed thoughtfully, weighing his options. The rustle of the prairie grass outside was tempting, the moon’s light illuminating the path he could take across the plains now that he had satisfied his curiosity. But had he? There was still _ something _ about Allen, and his cabinet of curios, that made Connor want to learn more. In answer to the unspoken question, he simply shifted away so that Allen could finally lay down, the two men finding a sort of truce in the equilibrium of sharing a bed.

* * *

In the morning, Allen was true to his word, rising with the sun and going about his daily chores without any concern for Connor. He wasn’t cruel, per se. Connor had seen plenty of cruel men treat those they thought beneath them as if they didn’t exist. He was simply focused on what he needed to do in order to continue his existence out here in the wilds. There was certainly no complaint when Connor tagged along to see what he was doing, still idly curious about the life of this strange man. Sometimes he maintained his human form, and other times he returned to what was more comfortable, trotting along beside Allen and snuffling at the vegetable plots as he weeded and watered. Regardless of what he may have thought, Allen remained impassive when Connor switched his bodies as quickly as a cloud could flit across the clear blue sky.

They spoke little throughout the day, but standing and watching as Allen pulled a dead rabbit from a trap oh-so-similar to the one that had nearly taken his hand the day before had Connor asking, “What _ was _ your plan, before? You trapped me first, then bandaged me up as though it were a mistake.” 

Allen took out a tangle of twine and bound the rabbit’s legs together to hang on his belt, saying as he did so, “I meant to see if I could heal your leg. Then maybe, who knows, fatten you up? Domesticate you? Would have gotten the most money for your pelt, probably.” The way he spoke was human practicality at its finest, as if he had simply come across the fox and seen it as an untapped potential resource. ‘Waste not, want not’, as they were so fond of saying.

Connor couldn’t help but laugh at the first part of Allen’s explanation, commenting, “You picked the wrong fox to experiment with healing medicine on. As you may have noticed, I needed no care from you to return to my full form.” He paused and cocked his head curiously, following Allen as he began to walk to the next trap. “Why are you so interested in healing, anyways?” he asked. Connor had met healers before, but they felt different than Allen. They had different motivations, and usually held themselves in far too high of a regard, in his opinion. That was most humans, but he was biased (correct, but biased). 

The dead rabbit swung against Allen’s thigh as he walked, its dried blood staining the side of his trousers. He shrugged, replying, “We all die someday. But why just lie down and let life cripple you if you don’t have to?” 

Connor considered that for a while as they walked, the hot sun beating down in an unfamiliar way on his pale human skin. He was sweating, he could feel it, the slight breeze blowing against the moisture and cooling his body. He thought of the poisonous frogs and snakes, bright colors announcing their venom to those who might dare cross their paths. They survived, in their own way. And he thought of the way a body convulsed and wretched as poison entered the system, the creature fighting to survive as best it could.

“Why indeed?” Connor answered finally. They spent the rest of the day in silence, aside from a few soft hums from Allen. He hummed to himself, sometimes, Connor noticed. Not in a musical way, but as if the thoughts inside his head were a dialogue he needed to reply to. Connor could feel the soft twist and turn of his thoughts around him like a river, but he couldn’t quite divine the total shape of them. He supposed it would require more time and patience than he had for that sort of magic. Not to mention a true name, freely given. Perhaps in time. Time was something Connor had no shortage of, after all.

They ate dinner together this time, sitting at a slightly smaller table next to what Connor could now identify as Allen’s large operating slab. His eyes took in more of the cabin as they ate, utilizing the light of the sun to observe the bundles of herbs and cured meat hanging from the rafters, and the racks of instruments carefully laid out on the counters. Everything in its place, all according to Allen’s will. A perfect seat of power for him to preside over. Connor made no effort to help clean up after dinner, watching instead as Allen washed up just to see his hands at work once more. And if, when night fell and the man undressed to sleep, he was surprised to find a furry occupant taking up part of the bed, well. He seemed not to mind overmuch.

* * *

And so the days passed, with a slow certainty to them that Connor found both fascinating and repulsive. On some, he would wander far afield, the ocean of grass calling him back with open arms. He had no real attachment to the lives of humans, after all, so why would he stay put? He bounded through patches of poison ivy, hunted down his own meals, and let the summer breeze rustle his fur as he slept. Connor was whole in the measure of his power, the scent of death leaving its mark on the landscape where he bent his will. And yet… he found himself returning, still, to the small cabin in the clearing of the prairie. He found himself in Allen’s bed, taking his pleasure and allowing the human to manipulate his body in ways he had never before experienced. Gratification of the flesh had never appealed to him until he had a hot mouth on his hole and a rough hand at the base of his cock, holding back his release until Allen allowed it. Now it became a clever way to use those dusk hours when the world began to settle into night.

Connor never questioned his own motivations, because after all, if he found this to be interesting, where was the harm in wasting one human lifespan’s worth of time on it? As the evenings turned cool with the first hint of fall, Allen began the habit of dragging a bench outside to watch the sun set. He would drink, sometimes, or simply sit and watch. Connor sat next to him, tail lazily flicking as he watched the turn of time reflected in the sky. It was peaceful, in a way he had never known a human settlement to be. That sort of anomaly was the reason he was still here, he thought, the reason he still needed to figure Allen out.

“Do you still not believe in gods or spirits?” Connor asked one night, watching Allen for a response out of the corner of his eye. “No,” came the answer, almost immediately. Connor couldn’t suppress the surprised expression on his face as he turned to look at Allen properly. The man wasn’t stupid, he had seen the many ways that Connor was more than human. 

A few beats of silence passed before Allen turned his head slightly, a hint of a grin pulling those clever lips up. “It’s lucky then for you that you don’t need my belief,” he added with a chuckle. The answering grin that spread across Connor’s face revealed the cruel points of his teeth, glinting in the setting sun. 

“Lucky for the both of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I very much enjoyed writing this, it got horny really fast and I just leaned into it lol. The next part of Gavin and Niles story is in the works, I promise! I’m working very hard to make it good and I appreciate your patience <3
> 
> I love and appreciate any kudos or comments, let me know what you think of this new Connor! I’m also on [tumblr](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/) if you want to stop by and say hello C:
> 
> Obligatory refresher on how I would totally best Dabbing Cabbage in hand to hand combat were I given the chance


End file.
